


Equilibrium Unfolding

by Sabulum



Series: Equalizing Forces [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: (plus other things), 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Bloodplay, Brother Feels, Bruises, Clone Sex, Discipline, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, F/M, Femdom, Identity Issues, Jötunn Loki, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pegging, Polyamory, Slapping, Switching, Threesome - F/M/M, ganging up on Tony Stark, not-so-different Jötunn physiology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulum/pseuds/Sabulum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The process of unfolding a protein or RNA molecule by gradually changing its environment."</p><p>A number of prompts and oneshots centered around Loki, Pepper and Tony, written for the 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge (and then some). Things may change, but it only ever ends up pulling them closer together. The thrill defines them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Multitasking

**Author's Note:**

> Things that may vary: length, writing style, smut-level, and distribution of ships. Some may lean more towards Frostiron, while others may be more Peppermint. I can't exactly say. Also, while most will be in the Equalizing Forces 'verse, there may be some that are not (so I recommend having read that first).
> 
> What will NOT change: trying to do as much justice to the three of them as possible!
> 
> I hope you enjoy. **_Today's theme: anything, so long as it's not angsty_**. (For Alix. I went with clone!sex.)

Tony took in the sight for three seconds before it registered.

“Okay, um. Feeling a bit left out here.” Pepper was astride Loki on the couch, bodies pressed together and hands entangled beneath what remained of their clothing. It looked to be pretty hot already.

Predictably, he received no response.

“No, guys, but really.” Tony doffed his jacket. “Been a long day—publicity stuff, you know? Smiling for the idiotic masses?—and I was kinda, um. Y’know. Cheeseburgers. Maybe.”

Loki paused long enough to shoot a glare at him sideways.

“But that can wait,” he concluded reasonably.

Pepper moaned against Loki’s mouth, shoving him down on the couch. He barely fit, legs draping over the side in what looked like an uncomfortable—but yeah, Tony thought, he didn’t care. Pepper expertly undid the bindings on his trousers, shoving them down between their bodies with a determined glint in her eye. She sat up to peer down at Loki, who smiled challengingly.

Tony forced himself to swallow. “Gettin’ kinda lonely over here, not gonna lie.”

A clone appeared, raising an eyebrow. It was completely naked. Tony blinked, then glanced over at a very happily distracted Loki.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “That works.” He turned back to the clone, which was advancing on him. “Is it—I mean, are you—?”

The clone silenced him with a kiss. Its mouth was solid—and, yeah, other parts of it too, his research confirmed—definitely solid. Very familiar, actually. Same domineering tendencies and completely unfair tongue and fingers that were just a _bit_ too—

“Ah! Shit. The hell?” Tony glared and pulled back when it zapped him in a rather tender place. But then he saw the slight flickering, registered Loki’s—the real one’s—little noises from over on the couch, and huffed.

“You sure this is something your magic can do, Agent Smith?”

Loki—the real one—gave a slight growl. The clone backed this up with a frown, becoming solid again and pinning Tony’s hands against the wall with a slightly firmer grip than was necessary.

“No offense,” he clarified. “I’m not doubting your prowess or anything. It’s just that multitasking—”

Pepper gave a breathless laugh, and soon Tony found himself paying for that comment as the clone took him roughly in hand. It— _he_ —leered in a distinctly threatening way.

Then he proved just how solid he really was.


	2. Stress Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a stressful day, there's one toy in particular that Pepper enjoys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out far crackier than I envisioned. Also, less porny so far. I must break this up. Next will be ANGST AND SMUT!
> 
> _**Today's theme: Day 1: Anal sex.** _

Pepper did not _suggest_ it so much as charge in and demand that they make it happen.

Tony looked up from his schematics, blinking. Loki, reclining with a book, just looked nonplussed.

“What, dare I ask, is that?” he deadpanned, ignoring her demand for the moment. His gaze honed in on the toy clutched in Pepper’s hand.

Tony blinked again, because wasn’t it obvious?

Still, Pepper calmed herself enough to explain; “It’s a strap-on dildo. For those of us who were not born with the blinding miracle that is a penis.”

It was a gross simplification, Tony thought—and sarcastic; sarcasm was not good—but Loki still stared for a moment before the words registered. Then he tilted his head. “Ah,” he said. “Yes. I see it now.”

There were so many places Tony could go with that that he didn’t even bother. Instead, he turned to a now dangerously tranquil-looking Pepper. “So, long day, huh?”

“You have no idea,” she said, and kicked her heels off as she advanced into the room, hitting a cabinet and a coat-rack in succession with unerring accuracy. “You, Tony Stark, have no idea how good you have it. The new office is a _mess_. Interns are leaving left and right, the board is questioning _my_ decision-making skills, Happy is being overprotective, and on top of it, I have to wear—these fucking—” She clawed at her legs. “— _stockings_! I swear to god, they have been riding up all day. My feet hurt, my shoulders hurt, I have a headache worse than a magnitude five earthquake, and I just want to—to _fuck_ something into the mattress. Preferably one of you,” she finished, uncommonly flushed. Her freckles had practically disappeared in the red of her skin.

Tony frowned in concern. Never mind the strap-on; Pepper only got this flustered when she had to deal with rampant sexism in the workplace. Must’ve been memorable. Taking note of her list of complaints, Tony rose to fix one of them, stretching his back with an alarming creak, crossing over and then brushing her hair aside gently so he could get to her shoulders. Pepper shot him a fond look, but didn’t relax; not even when his expert hands set to kneading out the worst of the tension.

“I appreciate the thought, Tony, but that won’t do today,” she muttered. “It’s been horrible. I really need to vent.”

Tony made a sympathetic noise, eyeing the strap-on consideringly. Sure, he could do that. Admittedly not what he’d had in mind for the day, but for _Pepper_ —

Loki still looked vaguely startled, but he seemed to be coming around. “You are quite serious,” he murmured, half to himself.

“Extremely serious,” Pepper confirmed. “If you don’t volunteer for duty, I am going to fuck Tony until he cries.”

Tony froze mid-back rub.

“Interesting,” Loki said, and set his book aside.

The startlement was fading. His expression was—well, if Tony had to name it, he would say bemused. A hint of curiosity, maybe. Slight interest. “You mortals will never cease to amaze me. Whatever will you come up with next?” He rounded the couch, advancing to stand in front of Pepper so he could run a finger down the dildo, as if sizing up its length and girth.

Glancing back and forth between them, Tony felt quite bothered all of a sudden. Loki’s eyes were intent, Pepper flushing ever hotter and paying very close attention to Loki’s face, searching.

“The thought is not unappealing,” the god finally admitted, tapping the silicone with a fingernail before seeming to reach a decision. He inhaled, looking suddenly ardent. “I have been taken by men, and as a woman. To be taken _by_ a woman does not seem so strange in comparison.”

Caught up on the words “taken” and “as a woman,” Tony almost missed Pepper’s full-body shiver. He did not, however, miss how she was now looking at Loki as if she wanted to devour him whole.

Quite bothered indeed.

Tony cleared his throat, Pepper slipping out from under his grasp to drag Loki towards the bedroom. “I’ll just—stay here, then? I guess? Wouldn’t want to get in the way or anything, I mean—”

“Don’t be foolish, Stark,” Loki said over his shoulder. “What then would I do with my mouth?”


	3. Stress Relief, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki aims to please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, jeez. I should be working on the other prompts, but this one just grabbed me... and y'all wanted it to be pornier, so I had no choice, right? :P
> 
> A continuation of the previous chapter. **_(Still) Day 1. Anal sex._**

If Tony had noticed anything in the past few months, it was that Loki took sex with them very seriously. He wondered if it had always been that way. Asked, of course—but never got a straight answer, Loki changing the subject seamlessly and Tony letting it go, figuring that the lack of answer was answer enough on its own. Whether or not it had been common in the past, that’s how he was _now_ , and Tony liked it. Liked how much attention he paid to every moment.

Loki treated sex like… like a personal challenge. Like a game that he’d been playing for centuries until he knew every rule, every trick; like an old rival that he knew all the weaknesses of. Tony prided himself on his experience, but Loki—for all that Ásgarðr was backwards in many ways, Loki had _lifetimes_ on him. Actual, literal lifetimes. And he distilled every last ounce of that into bringing “his” mortals pleasure.

Tony’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Oh, god.”

Loki chuckled around him— _fuck_ he had to stop doing that, _jesus christ_ —and Tony caught the tail end of a mischievous look. Then he pulled back, releasing Tony’s dick with a wet sound, panting as he grinned. “You keep saying that, Stark. One of these days you may have to re-evaluate whether or not you are religious.”

“I’m not talking about you, you sarcastic bastard.” Tony’s forceful tone was somewhat defeated by his whimper, and Loki laughed—punctuated by a grunt as Pepper drove into him again, harder this time.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself,” Pepper suggested. Her fingers dug into Loki’s hips, nails digging furrows, and he nodded, breath coming harsh as he surged forward to take Tony’s dick in his mouth again. He swirled his tongue this time, and Tony couldn’t resist bucking forward, groaning; the god’s skin was slick with sweat, arms shaking where he held himself up between them. Behind him, Pepper’s face was twisted with intensity as she worked out her frustrations on his pliant body.

Tony would certainly have been hurting by now, he knew—Pepper had gone rough and fast right from the beginning—but they both knew that Loki was tougher than them, and he showed no signs of anything but vibrant pleasure. Pepper’s eyes began to glaze, and she paused long enough to lean forward, pressing a kiss to Loki’s shoulder blade, wrapping arms around him before she began to thrust again, deeper. Loki groaned around Tony’s dick, sucking harder and more urgently.

Tony swore they were going to kill him. “ _Shit_.” He fisted a hand in Loki’s hair, arching back so far he almost hit the wall. Panting, he worked his hips helplessly, so close. “Shit, guys. I love you. I love you both so much.”

The curl Loki gave with his tongue may have been agreement, or approval. Whatever it was, it sent heat pooling in Tony’s gut, and he didn’t last much longer at all before he came, thrusting once—twice—more with a cry, clenching his eyes shut so tight he saw spots. Loki was breathing harshly through his nose; he swallowed, sucking Tony through his aftershocks before releasing his cock, running his tongue full down its length one last time. Then, shaking, the god pressed his head down into the mattress in a fall of black.

As Tony’s heart rate finally slowed, he looked up to see Pepper with her hair a mess, teeth gritted and eyes aflame. Intensity shone in every line of her face, along with frustration. Loki strained back against her with each thrust, making encouraging noises.

“Virginia. Your turn.”

“C’mon, Pep,” Tony muttered. Half-collapsing on his side, he reached up to brush Pepper’s hair back.

The look she shot him then could have set him on fire.

Before he could catch his breath from the ferocity of it, she was dragging Loki up by the waist and making him lean against the headboard, all but manhandling him into position. Loki was more than willing to comply—and once she’d found her angle, she shoved one hand into the small of his back, yanked on his hair with the other and _slammed_ into him. Loki groaned, the new position forcing his spine to arch almost painfully; he was coming within seconds as soon as Tony reached down to help him off, re-diverting his attention from the authoritative Pepper.

Pepper’s whole body was flushed, sweat breaking out all down her skin. Her hips jerked, breath escaping in small, desperate moans. Then Loki gasped her name—“ _Pepper_ ”—and she cried out, whole body shuddering through her orgasm.

Loki looked relieved. When she pulled out of him, he all but collapsed, ass red and slick from the pounding it had taken. Pepper collapsed, too, the strap-on still wet with lube, and Tony took the opportunity of undoing the straps while she recovered. She muttered a “thank you,” and Tony stroked a hand down the length of her spine, setting the toy aside.

“Feel better now?” He started tracing idle paths across the backs of her thighs.

“Yeah.” She exhaled, then huffed a laugh. Pushing up, she curled her body close against Loki’s side. “Thank you. I needed that.”

Loki hummed and looked at her through his eyelashes. “You are most welcome, Virginia.”

Tony grinned for a moment. Then he flopped on top of both of them, earning a grunt from Loki and a surprised squawk from Pepper as he wrapped his arms around their chests. “You should stop calling her that. Her name is ‘Pepper,’ don’t’cha know?”

“Her name is Virginia,” Loki retorted, and smacked his ass. Hard. God or not, though, Loki was as exhausted as Pepper, and relaxed beneath Tony’s weight soon enough—especially when the inventor rearranged himself more comfortably.

Tony’s grin softened into a smile, and his arms tightened. “Fair. No, but really, I do love you guys.” He turned to press his nose against Pepper’s cheek. “Y’know, if they keep giving you shit over there, I can always come in. Give them a talking to and all that. Put the fear of god into them.

Loki looked amused. His expression suggested that he’d be more than happy to do the same, eyes darting to Pepper. But she just smiled softly, shaking her head at them. “Thanks, but I’m more than capable of fighting my own battles. They’ll come around soon enough.”

Tony nodded, more than agreeing that she was badass, and settled down with a contented sigh. Loki continued to watch her, however, his gaze thoughtful.

Their murmured conversation followed him down into sleep.

— — —

A week later, Pepper announced with a smirk that the board had stopped giving her trouble. She and Loki shared a long, knowing look, and Tony decided quickly that he didn’t want to know.

Yeah. His lovers were scary. Best just to leave them be.


	4. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor means well. Really. And in the end, Pepper winds up turning it into a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hurt me to write this. It _hurt_. Parts of it came easy—and then I'd have to stop and just compose myself, because it was _painful_. Loki's head is a difficult place to be, and this chapter got very intense toward the end.
> 
> The first part I'm not too happy about. The middle and end, though?
> 
> Jesus H. Christ.
> 
> I apologize in advance. Seriously.
> 
>  _ **Today’s prompt: Day 2. Awkward sex/things that don’t go as planned.**_ (This is not “awkward” in the usual sense of the term. It is, however, extremely uncomfortable on Loki’s end, verging on unpleasant. Warning for copious amounts of self-hatred. Because the debut of Jötunn!Loki could never _not_ be angsty.)

Tony would never admit to this if asked, but in all honesty, he had forgotten about it.

It was a fact he’d learned in passing one day. That was his excuse. Their captivity—it had been horrible in many ways, and Amora’s visits were such a tiny facet of _why_ that he’d honestly forgotten the details of most of them. The whole experience had been an attack on his psyche, and even now it seemed nightmarish. The dingy quarters. The stress with Loki. His wound. Not knowing about Pepper, or his team, or his _suit_ : all stuff dredged up from the very darkest parts of his imagination.

So, at the time, the little fact that Loki was a slightly different variety of alien had seemed inconsequential.

It didn’t seem that way now.

When Thor pressed the coin into his hand, Loki looked shocked. Their argument had been escalating slowly toward violence, and Tony had been more worried about his windows than anything—a newly found paranoia of his. He’d been half-debating calling Pepper for the past six minutes. But at Loki’s quiet sound, he had looked up in concern; seen the flat expression on his lover’s face and become suddenly intent. The tiny, runic circle that Thor had been worrying between his fingers now lay clasped between their palms, blue chasing up that focal point, painting darkness across the tense line of Loki’s arm. In his casual shirt, its spread was easy to see; his skin became etched with lines like tribal scars, forming intricate patterns that crept swiftly higher.

Loki remained still. He seemed fixed, stunned—until it reached his face. Then he pulled back so quickly that he stumbled, crying out as the coin clattered to the floor.

That didn’t stop the spread of blue.

Tony recalled Amora’s words and a touch of ice magic that made Loki flinch.

“JARVIS, get Pepper up here.”

“ _Of course, sir._ ”

Thor looked simultaneously uncertain and earnest, meeting Loki’s frantic—red?—eyes with big, gentle baby blues. “I know that you do not think it, brother, but this matters not to me. I have loved you even when you betrayed me. I have loved you even when I thought that you would gladly end my life.” At Loki’s broken glare, he swallowed. “I have loved you always, Loki. I only wish that you could see that.”

“What did you do?” Loki’s voice sounded close to cracking.

“It is a—trinket, for this purpose. From Father.”

Tony winced at that. Sure enough, the comment sparked Loki’s rage like nothing else, the god surging forward to seize Thor by the lapels. “What does it do? What have you cursed me with, Thor? _Tell me_!” His face was desperate.

Thor reached up to grab Loki’s wrist, and Loki flinched violently backward—but Thor moved like a flash, caught his arm and held him. Just held him, his touch gentle. Loki’s breath came harsh and fast, but Thor was solemn, rubbing small circles on the pulse-point with his thumb. “It is not permanent, brother.” The Thunderer’s voice was uncommonly quiet. “I know how you hate this form; it will only last the day. I simply wished to show you that… that I do not care. To me, you are still Loki.”

Loki stared for a moment, then he snapped his mouth shut, expression open and vulnerable. He made a small noise, jerking his hand out of Thor’s grasp and backing away; stopped after a step, visibly frustrated. Clenched his fist tightly.

“Leave,” he finally rasped, avoiding Thor’s eye.

Thor’s brow furrowed, regret and understanding both clear in the bowed line of his shoulders. “Brother. Please, I—”

“Leave!” Loki yelled before managing to compose himself, a muscle in his jaw working. He was taut, tense in a way that Tony had never seen, and which thus worried him immensely; made him think of long nights in captivity where they were close to breaking, but Loki still refused to talk to him. Loki’s eyes—wholly red; sclera and all, Tony noticed—kept darting to his hand, to the coin, as if he could reverse the spell by sheer willpower. He said no more, but twitched as if he wanted to either curl in on himself or destroy every object in the Tower.

Breaking out of his trance, Tony stepped forward. “Thor, bud, I don’t know the exact details here, but I think you probably should go. We’ll talk later, yeah? I’ll give you a call.” He was moving as he spoke, advancing even as Loki turned and paced away from him.

Nodding, Thor watched Loki for a long moment, staring forlornly before turning away, pressing the elevator call button like it had wronged him. He heaved a weary sigh. “Brother, I will return.” Loki just sneered in reply, and Thor deflated even further if that was possible. “I—clearly I have upset you, but it was not my intent. I swear it. I would sacrifice much if only you would believe that I still care for you.”

The elevator dinged, and Thor looked back once more to meet Tony’s eyes. He looked ridiculous in his gray t-shirt and jeans, but somehow still regal. Regal and sad.

Tony shrugged, not knowing if he could begin to do what Thor was silently asking—and Thor nodded once again. Squared his shoulders, stronger than most people gave him credit for. Then he said; “I will return,” and left with as much dignity as a man could muster who had lost a part of him, and been consistently rejected for the past two years.

Tony exhaled, deciding not to think about that for the moment. Yeah, so what, he sympathized. Where the hell was Pepper?

Turning all of his attention to the now blue and increasingly upset-looking Loki—who suddenly sagged into a chair, deflating as if all the will had gone out of him—Tony tried to decide what to say that wouldn’t get him killed. He was curious—heck yeah he was—but knew better than to ask the questions that were nagging at him. Not when he didn’t know what was wrong.

Fidgeting, he decided to stall until their more compassionate third could get there and deal with this.

Yeah. Stalling worked.

“So, um. That was rough.” He sidled closer. Scratched his beard. “You, uh, you alright?”

Loki ignored him, which was probably for the best. He stared bleakly down at his hands with lips twisted in a grimace, all manner of demons lurking behind his eyes. The red made them look oddly unfamiliar. Well, that and all the blue. “I should have asked whether or not he knew how to reverse it. Then strangled him.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What in Hel was he thinking?”

“I dunno, but whatever it is probably has to do with how freaked out you are right now,” Tony suggested reasonably.

He expected a glare for that. The lack of one was more distressing than anything he’d seen thus far.

For all his demons, for all his self-hatred, Loki had never before looked as if he wanted to hide—had never _looked_ it, even if he did. But Tony could see the depths of his unease, even as he tried to mask it. Knew where to look. Had learned, by necessity, in their confinement.

This was a big deal.

“Loki,” Tony muttered. Reached out—but Loki gave a warning glare and jerked his head away. Tony froze with fingers inches from his cheek, and no pun intended, because _shit_ was he cold. He waited.

“My touch will burn you,” Loki explained in a tight voice.

Tony thought about that for a moment. Burn. So… _really_ cold, then. Potential frostbite. Then he shrugged and continued anyway, cupping the side of Loki’s face. “Didn’t seem to bother Thor.”

Loki’s expression was somewhere between alarm and incredulity. “Stark, you _need_ your hands,” he choked—but he didn’t move as Tony rubbed a thumb along his cheekbone, the touch not burning nor even hurting very much at all. A bit like plunging his hand into ice water. The simple action made Loki tense, but then he closed his eyes, brow furrowing in apparent pain. Tony considered just how upset he must be if he wasn’t even bothering to hide it any more.

“Are you going to explain this whole thing to to me, or should I wait until Pepper gets here?” he finally asked. He perched on the chair arm, moving so he could reach Loki more comfortably, snuggling close. Loki let him.

“I will explain to her,” the god said, and fell silent as Tony threw an arm around his shoulders.

Tony nodded at that, settling in to wait. Probably for the best, anyway; Tony wasn’t the most compassionate conversationalist.

— — —

For all his damned curiosity, Stark asked no questions. Loki appreciated that.

Virginia, however, was not so accommodating.

Stark did not object to giving them some time alone. It likely had something to do with the distress that Loki could not completely hide—muscles tensed until they ached, eyes pointedly ignoring even glancing at his own skin, knowing what he would find; yes, to say that Loki was _upset_ would be an understatement. Damn Thor, anyway, for trying to prove his point in such a hamfisted way. The room felt too warm, and he gritted his teeth at knowing that it was because _he_ was now so cold. His magic writhed in his chest, but was helpless to obey him in this, the coin’s binding too strong for him to break. He imagined he made quite a sight indeed.

Virginia observed this in silence for a moment, even when Stark was minutes gone. Her clear eyes roved his face, taking in features that Loki had never seen; never wished to. He dared not ask what she thought.

Then she ended their stalemate.

“Explain,” she ordered, knowing full well that he would obey.

And, reluctantly, he did.

She remained quiet as he summed it up as succinctly as he knew how: he was adopted, and his race was one of monsters. Her head tilted, listening intently as he summarized the war with Jötunheimr over her realm. He ran over Odin’s version of how he had been found, keeping his words as crisp and factual as he could, and the lack of sadness or pity on her face was a blessing to him when his voice cracked. Virginia had a way of listening without passing judgment, and it made it easier to slip into explanation of those final days on Ásgarðr: how he had spiraled downward, and fallen, and hated himself so dearly for it. Her only sign of distress was a slight pursing of her lips; he was wise enough not to mention his attempt at genocide, but all the rest she took in without a sign of fear or anger. Soon, she knew more than even Stark had been told—his betrayal of Laufey; his battle with Thor—and he felt only marginally less like clawing out of his skin.

It was a relief to get it out. To share the burden of it.

Then he caught glimpse of his hand and went back to vibrating with tension.

“There seems to be a lot of racism on Ásgarðr,” she said eventually, hands folded on her lap.

He had learned of this concept—it sounded accurate. “Yes. Yes, there is.” But he felt the need to explain; “Much of it is justified. Æsir and Jötnar have been at war for centuries. We have little contact with each other outside of battle, or threats, or… ah, infiltration.”

Virginia ignored his prominent wince. “That’s even more of a reason not to hate them blindly,” she said, and looked annoyed by it. She sighed, as she often did when faced with the differences of Æsir culture. She often seemed as frustrated with them as Loki—or, admittedly, as he sometimes was with mortals and their odd notions of things. “You know, it’s pretty telling that you supposed ‘gods’ are no better than us when it comes to killing each other. Dehumanization and war go hand in hand: it’s easier to fight an enemy that you have no sympathy for, or that you’ve been conditioned to see as a monster. It prevents you questioning why they deserve to die.”

All he could muster was a quiet; “Indeed.”

Knowing the irrationality of his own self-loathing did not make it go away. It only made him angrier at those who had bred it into him in the first place, and at himself for buying into it so fully.

And yes, there was the sympathetic look he’d been expecting, leveled at him pointedly in response to his scowl, her eyebrows raised as if daring him to question it. He clenched his fists, but could not decide whether he hated the fact that she pitied him or _loved_ her for caring so much that she was able to do so.

“I don’t pity you,” she said, perceptive as always. Damn the woman. She rose from her chair, and crossed over to where he was sitting in tense silence; ignored when he tensed even further, shying away from her. Her hand raised to trace his cheek as Stark had done, and he closed his eyes to avoid meeting her piercing gaze. Not when he knew his own would burn bright red.

Making a soft noise, Virginia let her hand trail down to cup his jaw. He could not pinpoint the emotion behind it.

Her touch was like fire.

“Loki, do I have your permission to do something that you may not like?”

He swallowed. “As ever, Virginia, you have permission to do anything at all to me,” he breathed. She could kill him and he would not question it—would accept the knife without sound, without protest. Even if she failed, he would turn the pain of her betrayal inward, ending _himself_ before he ever lashed out against her. She was everything.

Her touch firmed, decisive. “That’s good, because you’re going to be very angry with me in a couple of moments.”

Blinking in confusion, he looked up at her—and inhaled sharply at the realization that she was undoing his trousers. “What are you doing?”

His voice came out strangled. She met his eyes resolutely, face set in stubbornness and hands not stilling in their goal to undress him. Disconcerted as he was, he still made no move to stop her. “I think, Loki, that you’ve never let yourself become familiar with this form. You don’t even like to look at it. There’s a lot about it that you don’t know, isn’t there?”

He breathed raggedly. “Yes, but—”

“I think it’s time we fixed that.” Her brow quirked, and he could only stare, unable to process what she meant. Then she gave a firm tug at his trousers that eliminated all questions.

Oh. Of course.

He did stop her, then. Gave no thought to grabbing her wrists in one hand, only realizing after he had done so what his touch could do, and glancing down in a panic. But he had not burned her. He looked back up, saw her meeting his eyes squarely and swallowed, conflicted.

Her expression was determined, but soft. “Is this okay?” she asked—and he thought: _that is not the question_. Of course it wasn’t okay, far from it. He wanted nothing less at the moment than to feel any connection with this body at all.

But that was not the question. The real question was whether or not he trusted her. Did he trust her assessment of his needs better than he did his own?

Put that way, there was only one answer. One of them had once attempted suicide, and the other had pulled together shattered remnants of his psyche until he was almost whole again.

He breathed; “Yes.”

He had let himself down on a number of occasions. Virginia never had.

— — —

In a way, it was not so different from the “sessions” that they had from time to time. They migrated to the bedroom; he divested of his garments, finishing the job that she had started, and she remained fully clothed, watching him. She gave instructions, and he did as he was told. Obedience was rewarded—her smiling at him—and hesitation was punished—her brow furrowing in concern. Put like that, it was very similar indeed.

The difference was in the indecision roiling in his gut, the stifling warmth of the room, and the way he flinched every time he caught a glimpse of blue.

Once he was naked and standing with his back to the mirror, he dreaded what she would command of him next. But she only stepped forward, rising to place a soft kiss to his lips then meeting his eyes.

“Still okay?” she confirmed.

He exhaled. Her touch was like fire.

“Yes.”

“Good,” she murmured, and trailed a hand down his arm. The heat made him shudder; he imagined he was as ice to her, and tried not to flinch at the thought. He mostly succeeded, but of course she saw it anyway and raised an eyebrow.

Lips quirking wryly, she stepped back to a less intimate distance, fingers lingering on his wrist for as long as possible. Once she’d finally let go, he braced himself, waiting for the moment when she would tell him to turn around—to face his hated reflection in the mirror. He shouldn’t have been so surprised when she didn’t, or when she heaved a patient sigh instead. “We’re going to have to start small, I see. Can you look at your hands for me?”

That wasn’t so bad. Loki ignored the memories invoked by the gesture, ignored the voice in his head screaming that he was a coward, and did so. Somehow, he still felt sick at the color that spread up his arms. He had only seen up to the wrist in Jötunheimr; now he envied his younger self, not relishing the full experience, knowing that these lines traced across the whole of his skin. He rotated his shoulders, taking in the raised patterns and the dark, vivid coloring.

Inevitably, it reminded him Laufey. He hoped Virginia forgave it when he cursed.

“Do you have any idea what the markings mean?” Her tone was curious. Neutral.

“No,” he said curtly. “Familial, though, if I had to guess. I’ve seen—my _father_ had—” He cursed himself again, silently. “They were similar. Along the arms.”

During his final visit to Jötunheimr, a part of him had taken perverse pleasure in cataloguing every resemblance he had to Laufey. The memory was clear now, and no less horrible upon recollection.

Would the rest of his skin tell a similar story? Proof, full and clear, of the lie?

He was never Odin’s son. Not even for a moment.

“I’d ask if you want to turn around now, but the answer is obvious,” Virginia said softly.

He knew that it was true. Nonetheless, self-loathing and his own contrary nature combined to prove her wrong, and he gritted his teeth as he spun to face the mirror.

The first thing he saw was, of course, blue. A great deal of very dark blue skin. For a moment he found it hard to focus beyond that—felt his breath coming fast; heard his blood rushing in his ears, heart pounding. For some reason, it was the familiarity of that sensation that allowed him to relax, the comfort that at least he _felt_ the same allowing him to look past the blindingly obvious. Then, with a sudden fierce need, his eyes traced the detail of his markings. Catalogued the angle and curve of lines as he had with Laufey; compared them against what he remembered.

The degree to which they were the same made him bare his teeth, a pained noise escaping him. The degree to which they were _not_ …

Was not nearly enough.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, searing hot for all that it was gentle—looked up to see Virginia standing behind him in the mirror. But he was distracted from this sight, by its temporary comfort, by the starkness of red standing out against the blue, and he then decided he may as well complete his misery. His gaze was drawn inexorably to his own face; thus, the twisting of its expression was clear to him when he saw how very similar it was. Past the color, past the markings, past the _eyes_ —he knew it. It was still him.

He didn’t know what he’d expected. Didn’t know if this was better or worse than finding himself unrecognizable. All he knew was that he couldn’t bear it, and so he turned back around, seeing Virginia close and immediately wrapping his arms around her, careless of her heat or his own icy coldness. He held her tight, and she did the same—shifted to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Not okay,” she said.

“No.” He buried his face in her hair, gritting his teeth at the proof of his heritage and his own foolishness in thinking that he was ready to confront it.

How he could he ever accept that he was kin to the likes of Laufey?

Her hands rubbed down his back, and when they reached the tender spot at the base of his spine, he jumped at the shock, because it _burned_. All at once, he remembered the humans’ fragility; pulled away from Virginia, eyes snapping to her face. She looked bemused, but shivered slightly. He backed up until he hit the wall.

Damn it. “You’re cold.”

“Not overly,” she replied, and quirked her lips at him.

 _Damn_ it. “I shouldn’t touch you,” he insisted. “You’re mortal, you might—”

She silenced him by covering his mouth with her own, the heat and intensity of it surprising him enough that he didn’t resist. If he’d thought her skin had burned—he groaned, closing his eyes to the rush of sensation. Her tongue was possessive, making sure he remembered who was in charge, and her body molded to fit his own. After a moment, he gave in, responding to the kiss. Then she pulled back, leaving him breathless. Dazed.

“I’m not Tony. I don’t tend to do things that will hurt me.” To punctuate this, she squeezed his hand. Loki couldn’t blink in the face of her determined stare. “Don’t presume to tell me what’s good for me, okay? I’m a big girl. In return, I won’t tell you that you’re an asshole, alright?”

Unable to muster a response to that, he nodded. This seemed to satisfy her, for she smiled and placed a searing kiss to his jugular.

“Good. Now, where were we?” she murmured.

He didn’t protest when she shoved him backwards to the bed, nor when she placed his hands firmly on her stomach. She bid him sit, and he did; she kissed him fiercely again, and so it took him some time to realize that she’d remained standing. He didn’t care. Tears stung the backs of his eyes, and even the shame of it—of the form that he inhabited—was not enough to quench his desire for her. He kissed her, desperate, and pulled her to him. Strained up into her touch when she stroked his arms. Felt the heat of her.

Just when he felt sure that he would ignite in flames (or possibly melt, considering), she surprised him by pushing him on his back onto the mattress. At once he felt cooler, and blinked up at her in bewilderment.

She was shivering outright now, but he did not think that was why she’d separated from him. Her eyes were bright with desire, and she smiled. “I think you’re forgetting the point of this exercise.”

“I’m—?” he stuttered. “Excuse me?”

“To get you more comfortable with your skin,” she said. “ _You_. Which means, I think, that _you_ should be the one touching it, not me.”

His breath caught in realization.

“Not to mention I don’t want to get chilled in any awkward places,” she added.

Damn it, he couldn’t even argue with that. He agreed wholly—knew that too much contact with him would harm her, Jötunn cold against fragile mortal flesh.

But…

He didn’t _want_ to. He looked down to where his cock was still unstirred, stress and self-loathing more than a match for any lust he may have felt, and he knew at once why she’d said that he would be angry with her. The thought of pleasuring himself in this form repulsed him, yet he knew that she wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d done it. Until he at least tried.

He choked back his instinctive denial, demanding; “Why?”

“I think it’ll help. You’ll see that this is still _your_ body—that, even if the coloring’s different, some things are still the same.” The echoing of his earlier thoughts made him feel sick. “Plus, from a purely psychological standpoint, you’ll be doing good for yourself. Proving that you’re still worthy of pleasure.” She paused. Her eyes bore into his. “That, and… I want to watch.”

He’d been seconds away from sneering something about _therapeutic benefits_ when her last point registered, and his thoughts crashed to a halt. “You what?”

“I like watching you get off.” She paced towards him, dropping a hand to his thighs; he’d propped himself up on his arms, and now he watched her, at a loss for words again. “I like watching your face when you come, and knowing that it was at your hand—but my orders. I think I’d doubly enjoy it with all these lines of yours, so I can watch them move when you buck and writhe. I want to see you.”

Slowly, Loki exhaled.

It was true. She did often command him to bring himself to completion. He’d thought it was to prove a point, but the notion that she simply enjoyed _watching_ —well. It made sense, and was admittedly flattering. He’d always liked the idea of putting on a show. Maybe, if that’s all it was… if it was for _her_ …

Could he? Could he even make himself?

His eyes roved from the floor to the ceiling—anywhere but her. Anywhere but himself. Then, heart racing, he forced his tense limbs to respond and reached down to take himself in hand. Virginia made an approving noise above him. He ignored it.

It was easier than he expected to stroke himself to hardness—his body mistaking adrenaline for lust, perhaps. It was easier still if he pretended this was one of their sessions, something from the past, but he was distracted from such fantasies when she sighed loudly.

“Loki, you’re missing the point if you have to pretend you’re somewhere else.”

“But I want to be,” he grated, and met her eyes.

The look she fixed him with was not unsympathetic. Even so, he knew that she was set on this, and he growled in frustration; threw his head back, gripping his cock painfully tight. She reacted by easing onto the mattress, laying down beside him and placing a kiss to his temple. All at once his breathing became ragged, and it overwhelmed him.

“Virginia. Pepper. Please,” he begged.

She placed her hand over his, and the heat seared him; pain and pleasure, just as he liked. She coaxed him to move, pressing burning-hot kisses along his neck, and he obeyed her. It was easy, after all this time, to obey.

She helped him find a rhythm, making him groan.

Nudged him to open his eyes. To look.

It was not so different. Pale hand over blue; cock slightly darker than the rest of his skin, erect and glistening with pre-cum. The build-up of pleasure was familiar. The only thing that surprised him was how quickly it overtook him, and when he came, it felt no different. Spilling seed, just the same as if he were AEsir—if he were mortal. The same.

Pepper kissed him, and he sobbed into her mouth.

He shook afterward. Couldn’t bring himself to move. She crawled atop him, kissed his eyelids, and whispered; “Okay?”

Once he felt that he could speak without his voice cracking, he whispered; “Yes.”

She kissed him again, and held him close.

Her touch was like fire.

It warmed him again.


	5. Reckless Endangerment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, Tony takes some risks that might be considered stupid—but do they have to gang up on him? (Short answer: yes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? Another update? Why, yes! This is one of the first ones I finished, actually, so I just had to polish it a bit. :]
> 
> A break from the angst of the previous chapter. This was going to be _much_ bloodier, and quite kinky… but then it didn’t end up that way? I don’t even know. I’m just the writer, don’t ask me how it works.
> 
>  ** _Today's prompt: Day 3. Body fluids._** (Slight bloodplay.)

Tony grunted as the armor disengaged itself from him, the process made fumbling by the extent of the damage. “JARVIS, give it to me straight. How bad is it this time?”

“ _Approximately 80% of the hull has been shorn away, sir._ ”

Shit. Worse than he’d thought, then. Tony glanced down at the exposed under-layer of the armor, just a few scraps of red clinging to battered and scarred machinery; frowned at it, jerking his arm out from where two pieces had pinched together. The mechanisms were caught up. Shredded. “That’s worse than before.”

“ _Indeed. They appear to be learning._ ”

Tony cursed, then cursed again as one of the leg-plates cut into his flesh. “Hey, watch it! I’m hurt enough as it is.”

“ _My apologies, sir._ ” JARVIS sounded embarrassed. “ _The hydraulics are not completely intact. I am having to re-calibrate each piece individually to compensate; it is not an easy process._ ”

Tony paused. Considered that, then shuddered at the implications of plates detaching themselves incorrectly. Thank god for advanced AI.

“Remind me to tell you that I love you more often, okay?”

“ _At least once a day, sir,_ ” the AI confirmed fondly, finally unlocking the last of the interlocking plates. They slipped open enough for Tony to yank his other leg free, and he tripped, yelping as got caught up, almost crashing to the floor.

“ _You could have waited for me to finish,_ ” JARVIS chided.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony waved his concerns off, righting himself and rolling the shoulder that they had almost yanked out of its socket. Screw those Doombots anyway; he felt like a walking collection of bruises. Definitely gonna get them back at a later date. With a vengeance. And possibly missiles.

He was half-way into thoughts about artillery upgrades when a familiar tingle ran down his spine, accompanied by JARVIS’; “ _Sir, I believe that Loki has arrived._ ”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Tony sighed, bracing himself, before turning to face the (likely very pissed off) trickster.

Sure enough, Loki did not appear amused. Tony was banged up, but if anything, the god looked twice as bad, with an extra helping of sweat and dirt on top for garnish. Gashes split his armor in a number of places, the leather cut through with clean lines of red. His sleeve was still ripped where he’d pulled Tony out of the way of a whirring sawblade, and a massive dent spoke to the deflected blow that Steve had been unable to pull out of in time. Combined with the scowl on his face, it made for a very formidable sight indeed.

“Look—” Tony began, but was cut off by Loki advancing on him.

“You are _entirely_ too reckless for such a fragile creature,” the god said, irritated.

Then he kissed him.

Tony tasted the blood from Loki’s split lip. Felt the ache from his bruises when Loki grabbed him, hard and possessive and far, far too rough. Domineering asshole.

He couldn’t deny feeling the same.

Pepper found them like that: tangled up in each other, both too stupid to just admit that they were glad that the other was still alive. Her tut revealed what she thought of that, eyes roving over both of their injuries before she judged in Loki’s favor, pulling at his armor with worried hands.

“You’re alright?” she asked, eyebrows raised, confirming. They both knew that he was far tougher than he looked, but it _did_ look bad.

And Loki… fidgeted. Nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said decisively. She swiped at the blood on his chin, lingering for a moment—then drew him into a fierce hug. Tony squawked, being dragged along by virtue of Loki not releasing him yet.

“Mind the bruises!” He readjusted himself, Pepper giving him a warning squeeze. “Jeez, it’s like you can’t tell I’m injured here. Were the wounds not clear enough? Should I get some bloodier ones, like Loki? _Who_ exactly is the lynch pin in this relationship again?”

The answer to that question was, obviously, Pepper—who knew that he was fine so long as his mouth was moving, and so didn’t worry. Amora had changed that much about him, at least.

Loki’s face showed his rapidly dwindling patience.

“We would be more sympathetic were it not your own recklessness that caused the brunt of your wounds.” Loki’s grip tightened painfully, letting go only when Tony gave an exaggerated whine. The god did not look impressed, drawing back to glare. “I had to save you _twice_ , Stark. Once from a _fatal_ injury.”

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing you were there, then, isn’t it?” Tony gibed. His remark was met with a disapproving frown from Pepper, and—

Loki _looked_ at him. Kind of like how he looked at Pepper sometimes. Open; remarkably vulnerable, with an edge of pain at almost losing something important; an edge of frustration at having to reveal so much. Raw, and almost desperate.

Tony swallowed, closing a hand around Loki’s where it still gripped his wrist. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m… I’m fine.” He squeezed once to emphasize his point.

Loki squeezed back so hard that he felt the bones in his wrist grinding together, then he let go, stepping back to compose himself. “If you insist.” His voice was gruff. Pepper rolled her eyes at the emotional immaturity they both presented, and they both, resolutely, ignored it. “See to it that you are more careful next time, Stark. As you are so fond of pointing out, I am not an _actual_ deity. I cannot resurrect you from the dead.”

Tony nodded, for once not disagreeing.

After all, it did hurt. He’d be sore as hell in the morning, he was sure.

He was getting too old for this many bruises.

— — —

That night, Loki curled sharp fingers into the worst of his aches. Tony hissed, more injured that he’d let on—and Loki scowled, brow furrowed, before doing as he’d intended and easing the pain with magic, giving Tony a glare that communicated deep disapproval.

“I know,” Tony said, “I got it.”

And he did. But he wasn’t above retaliating by reopening Loki’s split lip with his teeth, the taste of blood worth it to hear the irritated noise he made.

Pepper shook her head at them; curled her arms around Tony and pulled him back, the inventor relaxing into her not-rough, not-domineering embrace. Loki eyed them for a moment, assessing. Then he bowed to soothe the rest of Tony’s aches with his mouth.

“Hey! Not sanitary,” Tony protested, seeing the red gleam on Loki’s lip.

Loki ignored him, hands pressing his thighs down as he licked a path from chest to navel, leaving a light smear of blood. He nosed at Tony’s pubic hair, and Tony’s cock stirred in interest despite the frown that he directed down at it.

“Seriously, that’s not kosher. Like, at _all_. How do I know where you’ve been?”

“I have been many places, Stark,” Loki said, and flashed him a knife-edge grin. Tony tried to pull up, suddenly rather alarmed—but aside from Loki’s unmoving grip on his thighs, he was also held back by Pepper, who laughed into the side of his neck. Tony shuddered, feeling trapped, but not in an altogether unpleasant manner.

“I see how it is.” His voice was deep with arousal. “Ganging up on me, huh? This is payback for all the hell I put you guys through.”

“You deserve it,” Pepper agreed, nudging his ear, her words sending puffs of breath across the sensitive skin there.

Tony would’ve responded with trademark witty banter, except Loki chose that moment to lick the head of his cock, so his body decided to groan instead. Traitorous thing. The other traitorous thing present then took to smearing blood in indecent places, trailing his cut lip down Tony’s length obscenely slow, laughing at the disbelieving expression this earned him.

“You are at no risk, Stark, I promise you.” To prove his point, he tapped a finger on Tony’s thigh; magic zapped the inventor, making him yelp and buck up against the hold instinctively.

“ _Shit_ , that’s not fair!”

“You are fond of saying that, Stark. You have yet to give a compelling reason as to why.” Loki eyed Tony’s erection for a moment before taking it into his mouth decisively, apparently set on the the exact method he was going to use to make Tony come apart. With a mouth like his, there were plenty of ones to choose from.

Tony whined, and leaned back into Pepper as if she could protect him. “Pep. Pep, _please_ —”

“Don’t look at me,” she murmured, biting his earlobe. “I’m with him.”

Tony ached from more than just the bruises now; the blood was nothing more than added slickness to make it feel sinfully good, Loki’s tongue moving in an incredibly distracting way. Giving up, Tony strained forward, moaning, until Pepper finally released his arms—at which point he immediately fisted his hands in Loki’s hair, panting as he tried vainly to thrust. His hands clenched and released rhythmically. He couldn’t move otherwise; could only close his eyes and whimper as he came.

Loki pulled back to look at him, meeting Pepper’s gaze over his shoulder. Whatever look they shared made him grin as he wiped the red from his chin. Tony didn’t even want to know.

If this was what being reckless got him, he decided, he should do it far more often.


	6. Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony didn't think that he could do this any more... but maybe just this once. For her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much more rewarding if you’ve read Day 2. It’s not directly tied into it, but there are some references that you may appreciate. :]
> 
> On a side note, this chapter hit my kinks like you wouldn’t believe. Also, apparently I write a ton of blowjobs. What is this now, three? Four?
> 
> Sorry for where this ended (HAHA no I’m not), but I was _originally_ going to end this at around 1.6k. Instead, I ended up writing quite a bit more. There may be a sequel eventually, if you want it; until then, enjoy this glimpse of Pepper in control. ;] (I hope I did the dynamics of D/s some justice. If not, feel free to let me know! I always worry that it's coming across the right way.)
> 
> _**Today’s prompt: Day 4. Bondage.**_ (With a Dom/sub vibe, some discipline, and Dom!Pepper.)

The nylon hugged his wrists in a not-painful way. Beside him, Loki was similarly restrained, except at the ankles, too—a concession that Tony refused to appreciate too vocally, even as a part of him found it touching. She really had put a lot of thought into this. However, his heart was still pounding like a bass drum in his chest, not least because he was naked. Partially that, and partially—

Tony glanced at Loki, wriggling. “I’ve told you guys I’m not comfortable with B&D, right? I mean, I’m sure I have in the past.”

Loki met his eyes calmly, but it was Pepper who answered; “You have, Tony.” She trailed a finger up his spine, across one bare shoulder-blade and up the column of his throat. Tony shuddered, but kept his gaze fixed on Loki’s wry expression instead of what she was doing, remembering the rules. He was aware, from Pepper’s huff, that his obedience made her smile. “You have. And I promise to be gentle. But you _owe_ me, Tony.” Her voice suggested a clear memory of the bunny incident.

“Owe you enough that you’ll give me a panic attack?” Tony grumbled, but it was half-hearted at best. He’d already agreed to this. They negotiated beforehand.

As Pepper would say: they had a contract.

Knowing that, Pepper struck him across the cheek for what was clearly willful impudence, the blow just hard enough to sting. “You owe me,” she said, “enough that you’ll do it.”

And Tony swallowed.

Loki chuckled, low and sensual at Tony’s expense. Pepper cut a sharp glance at him—the god met her eyes, inhaling and tensing slightly across his shoulders.

Pepper’s lips quirked at the sight, despite her best efforts to school her expression. “Something funny, Loki?”

“No, Virginia.” Loki’s back was perfectly straight, voice and face both cool and utterly composed. Only Tony, only _Pepper_ , could hear the breathless tremble that edged his voice; only Tony was at an angle to see how his hands fisted in their restraints, toes curling beneath him. Pepper eyed him slowly up and down, then she smiled in a distinctly predatory way.

“Well, since you’re such a good boy, I think… you’ll have to teach him.”

Loki’s breath caught in that way that never failed to make Tony squirm, god help him.

“Yes, that will work just fine.” She ran gentle fingers through their hair, massaging both their scalps like favored kittens; walked between them, then behind, circling. “Keep him in line for me, Loki. Make him behave. If you do well, I’ll be sure to reward you generously.”

She dragged fingers along Loki’s nape, making him shudder sweetly.

“Do poorly however, and—” Nails caught; dug in. “—you’ll be punished. Harshly.” Fingers curled at the base of his skill, twisting his hair hard enough that the god, strong though he was, whimpered.

Hell, they were both strong, Tony thought. This had nothing to do with strength. Not of the physical sort.

Pepper met Tony’s eye, every inch the capable, stunning woman that he’d put in charge of his company—but in a wholly different context. His cock twitched, his mouth gone abruptly dry as Loki submitted to her guiding touch, tilting his head back to bare the long line of his throat. The god’s eyes had closed at some point, entire body gone lax and pliant.

_God_ , he looked so vulnerable like that.

“You see how good he is, Tony?” Pepper’s voice was low. Oh, so very low and sweet.

Tony tried to swallow—failed—and nodded rapidly in lieu of speaking.

Pepper didn’t like that. “Out loud,” she demanded.

Loki recovered enough to elaborate in a hushed voice; “She doesn’t like silence. Use words with her.”

Tony took a moment to consider the implications that that might have later on. Croaked; “I understand. I-I’ll behave. I promise.”

He wasn’t even ashamed of stuttering.

Pepper smiled, and favored Loki with another slow caress down his face, tracing his eyelid and the sharp curve of his cheekbone. “Oh, Tony, I don’t think you will. But he and I will teach you, won’t we?”

“Yes,” Loki said at once, voice as dry as Tony’s; as gritty as sandpaper, full of want. He opened his eyes, pupils blown, gaze fixed on Pepper like his world had narrowed to the focal point of following her orders.

Tony realized at some point he’d forgotten to breathe.

“We’re going to start easy, Tony.” Pepper slid her hand down Loki’s chest, then let it fall away, the god straining minutely after her touch. Tony just stared.

“We’re going to start easy,” she repeated, more firmly. Tony’s eyes snapped up to see her staring at him, eyebrows raised. He swallowed and nodded.

Then he corrected himself; “Yes—yeah, okay. Sure.” Fuck. He’d never been good with rules.

The lines of tension in her relaxed. “Good. I’ll go slow with you this first time, Tony. I know you’re sensitive, and I don’t—”

“I’m not _sensitive_.”

She slapped him—so hard this time that he gasped, blinking at the shock of it. Her face remained calm, unmoved. Tony dragged his eyes back to hers, incredulous as his cheek throbbed. “I know that you’re sensitive, and I don’t want to overwhelm you,” she continued as if he’d never spoken. “Do _not_ interrupt me, Tony Stark.”

Loki’s lips quirked, and Tony sucked in a ragged breath. He held in a curse, trying to contain himself, feeling his muscles tremble. Christ, they’d barely even started.

Pepper dropped a hand to his shoulder, squeezing once although he hadn’t yet earned a reward. Loki shifted, offering a silent support of his own, and Pepper smiled as Tony bid his muscles to relax. It was not an altogether pleasant smile.

“We’re going to do something that I know you’ve done before, Tony. Something simple.” One finger traced his Arc Reactor. “Something that I will enjoy watching, that will reward Loki for his continued good behavior—and, quite frankly, that’s a bit of a role reversal for you. I think you’ll both enjoy it. I certainly will.”

They both blinked, but Loki’s eyes sparkled with realization.

Pepper directed him with a sharp nod. “I’m not going to untie you. Get down on the floor and suck him off.”

Oh. That didn’t sound so bad.

However, Loki looked like he was a step away from grinning devilishly, and soon Tony realized the problem. He looked down with a thoughtful frown—wiggled experimentally in his bonds, feeling how very little give there was. Then he looked at Loki, no less on his knees than he’d been a minute ago, and almost whined.

Well, shit.

“I have every faith that you can manage,” Pepper said wryly, correctly interpreting his hangdog look.

Tony grimaced, but bit his tongue against a reply. Then, with a sigh, and under Pepper’s watchful gaze, he worked himself somewhat uncomfortably onto his stomach, cracking his back in the process but eventually finding a position where he could nose at Loki’s dick. The god watched him intently, gaze heated until Pepper snapped her fingers and drew his focus to her again.

“You,” she ordered. “Don’t come unless I permit it.”

Loki’s breath quickened, but he remained otherwise composed. “Yes, of course.”

Thankfully, Loki wasn’t a complete asshole about it. Being somewhat more flexible than Tony, he leaned back until his hands were braced on the floor, arching his hips up to provide a better angle. Tony thanked him with a kiss to the inside of his thigh—not sure if he was allowed to speak; not daring—and Loki sighed in response. When Tony looked up, it was to see the god’s eyes closed and a purely blissful expression on his face.

It was one of the sexiest things he’d seen in a long time. He couldn’t reward such attractiveness with anything less than a fantastic blowjob.

As shamefully out of practice as he was, Tony supposed he made up for it with the tenderness that he exhibited. Really, he got much more into it than he would’ve expected, once the initial awkwardness wore off—once he’d found a position where he could take Loki in and not choke, since he couldn’t move his head without putting strain on his back. His bound position left him prostrate, helpless, but he found his heart racing as he lathed Loki’s dick with his tongue, feeling strangely empowered. Loki was hard in seconds, and Tony relearned how to pleasure him: sucking gently, but urgently; responding to Loki’s breathy sounds, knowing when he cried out that it was a motion worth repeating; recalling that he enjoyed the light scape of teeth. He put every ounce of his considerable focus into making the god squirm. Eventually Loki groaned, and Tony glanced up enough to see him staring back down at him. Loki met his gaze intensely, then slowly—purposefully—thrust up into his mouth. Tony became suddenly aware of his own need, and tried to shift to get some friction. Anything. The floor, his leg— _anything_ , god, he just needed to _move_.

Suddenly, a slap impacted his right asscheek, snapping him back to awareness that Pepper was looming over them.

“I didn’t say you could get off, Tony.”

Tony groaned and pulled back off of Loki, neck protesting the movement. He couldn’t resist hissing; “Shit, Pep. Please?”

Loki eased his hips back down, panting. Situating his body more comfortably, he ignored his erection with, Tony suspected, the ease of long practice. Loki knew the game already. But Tony didn’t play—was tightly wound already, on edge from the very first moment Pepper had touched him—and Pepper’s eyes were amused and unforgiving in the face of his plight.

“Not yet, Tony,” she said, terrifyingly matter-of-fact. “I’m going to make you beg for it.”

He scowled immediately. “That’s not even—”

“ _Stark_ ,” Loki warned, but not before Pepper had slapped him again. This time it just made him irritated, the pain somehow turning him on even more. Growling, he rolled over onto his back and tried to sit up, twisting in his bonds.

“Pep, seriously. I know I owe you, but this is—this is ridiculous. I can’t do this, come on.”

“Stark, please,” Loki said, sounding like he was gritting his teeth. But Tony ignored him.

Pepper’s face hardened in a way that boded ill for his future. Shit, though, what did they expect? He was _terrible_ at following orders. His skin itched, the soft rope feeling far too rough; too tight. His dick begged to be touched. Pepper met Loki’s eyes, and Loki scowled, tilting his head in what Tony suspected was a pre-arranged signal. For what, he didn’t know. When had they discussed this?

“I can see that punishing you isn’t getting me anywhere,” she finally muttered. “You’re nothing if not idiotically stubborn.”

Tony bristled at her insulting tone. “Yeah, I don’t—”

“So, I’ll just have to try something different. I did say, Loki, that you would help me teach him. Do you remember?”

“Yes, you did.” Loki tensed. Straightened, fixing his gaze straight ahead.

Tony just stared as this registered, wondering if she would really resort to such measures. She wouldn’t, would she? Pepper tutted, circling around to the table she’d laid out earlier, just out of his line of sight. His heart pounded as he fought not to turn and watch her.

“He’s not behaving very well, is he, Loki?” she said in a conversational tone.

“No.”

“I did say you would pay if he was insolent.”

“…Yes.” Loki’s hands fisted in the ropes helplessly.

Tony heard her picking something up behind them. Tensed instinctively.

She wouldn’t.

“Maybe this will help,” she muttered.

The switch impacted Loki’s shoulders with a sharp crack—so hard that, if he’d been mortal, it would have broken the skin. Loki gasped quietly, expression twisting, and Tony thought: damn it, she _would_.

The classic villain ploy. Target the hero’s loved ones until he cracked.

She struck Loki again, hard, the god’s back arching—though whether in pain or ecstasy, Tony couldn’t tell. The third blow was much the same, Loki actually whimpering this time; the fourth left a red mark, and Tony twitched as Loki cried out.

Eight in all. Eight hard blows, delivered for _his_ impertinence. By the end, Loki was carefully controlling his breathing, head bowed to hide the expression that Tony had barely glimpsed, but which he was positive he never wanted to see again. (That, or every day again for the rest of his life, a part of him admitted darkly.) Obedience was one thing; _vulnerability_ was one thing, but being punished for another’s mistakes? Suffering for something you hadn’t done?

He’d bet anything that it had been Loki’s idea, damn him. He knew all the ways to make Tony crumble to pieces.

Pepper paused a moment to bow her head by the god’s ear, whispering two syllables that Tony couldn’t quite catch. Whatever they were, he nodded in response, and she rubbed his shoulder. Kissed his cheek tenderly.

Then she straightened, and the look she gave Tony made him feel very small indeed. “Will you behave now?” she demanded.

Her voice sounded about as raw as he felt; as Loki looked. Tony nodded rapidly, swallowing.

“Good, because I _won’t_ do that again. Now make it up to him.” She tossed her head, and Tony was quick to obey, moving so quickly that he almost fell over. He ducked up beneath Loki to plant a kiss on his mouth, and Loki laughed—sobbed?—at the combination of gentleness and enthusiasm that he exhibited. It was a kiss that begged apology, tongue roving Loki’s mouth without expectation of a response. He pressed up against him, wanting to reach out, and so doing with his body what he couldn’t with bound hands, caressing him with the slow stroke of skin on skin. When Loki finally reacted, tongue brushing his lightly, he took it as an “apology accepted” and groaned desperately.

They were both breathless by the time he pulled back. Tony felt a hand curl into his hair; looked up to see Pepper petting them again, smiling fondly. “That’s much better.”

His dick still begged attention, but he ignored the hot ache this time with the memory of Loki’s breakable expression.

Pepper noticed, of course. “You’re learning,” she said in clear pleasure. Giving him a pat—and Loki a slow scratch down the back of his head, which he leaned into—she retreated to where she’d been standing when they first started, having at some point abandoned the switch. Tony found himself moving instinctively, falling back to his initial position as well. Soon he and Loki were side-by-side waiting once more; the only difference was that now they were both hard, Loki looked like he’d been put through a wringer, and Tony still wasn’t breathing quite properly.

Pepper nodded at their anticipation of her wishes. “You’re getting good at this, Tony.”

Tony felt strangely proud, and at the same time startled by his own response. Shit, it was just a bit of praise…

Was it always this intense? Had it been this way before, with other partners?

He couldn’t remember.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Loki laughed, and Tony felt himself shiver.

“He is performing better than expected,” the trickster commented, tone mischievous; no longer fragile, or perhaps just masking it well. “I expected far worse, for his first time. Perhaps we should reward his good behavior?”

Pepper eyed them both critically, then tutted. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet. Tony, finish what you started.”

Loki blinked in shock. Meanwhile, Tony grinned, more than happy to comply. He didn’t hesitate to get on his stomach this time, and Loki hadn’t quite recovered from his surprise when Tony crawled over and took his dick into his mouth again. This time Loki made a delicious noise, and Tony could practically feel Pepper’s satisfaction.

“Good boys.”

Loki fell back onto his hands again, moaning, arching his hips so that Tony had to move to accommodate him. He couldn’t seem to keep from bucking lightly this time, and Tony hummed in pleasure, sucking harder. Yeah, he’d forgotten how much he liked this. Loki was the master, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give back on occasion; Tony ignored the crick in his spine and bobbed his head, scraping sensitive skin with his teeth, tongue curling roughly. He licked the head then took Loki deep into his throat. It was an effort not to rub himself off on the carpet, but he managed; devoted himself to paying Loki back for all the lashes he’d taken on Tony’s behalf. One nip for each stroke, how was that?

He was immensely proud of himself when Loki came with a scream.

It made it almost worth it when Pepper stroked down his ass, and he remembered her promise to make him beg for it.


End file.
